WinWin Balloon EcoPolitics
for growing community health,
said the EarthBalloon economist,
is most effectively improved
by focusing on the bottom
of Earth’s sacred communal balloon,
accepting shared responsibility
for those stuck in ground floor economies
of chronic survival issues,
perpetually repeating despairing depressed circles,

Rather than ignoring root communal problems
to focus on further elevating
the top tier of this our communal balloon,
with counter-historical faith
in trickle-down eco-power distribution theories
of Win or Lose evolution.

Why would capital depression,
RightBrain suppression
and historic patriarchal suppression
suddenly gang up more gracefully,
less threateningly,
on ZeroZone ego-homelessness
freely chosen
before rudely thrown out
for lack of paternal place.

What does it mean to you
to be loved
right here
where you live and breathe,
eat and occasionally shower?

What value would you give
my investment of mutual regard?

Do you know
you can love
and be loved
for who you are right now?
And for that sainted sinner
you inevitably will become,
and for all those you have been
since first I laid eyes on you,
and smelled you,
and listened for your still small
and large voices.

Love cannot be reduced
and confined
to just one tense,
or even two
with those we are committed to
and for;
And best spreads across
all four seasons
of sacred change.

Love is limited
only by mistrusting imagination,
WinLose dissonant assumption,
reductions of sacred organic integrity
to secular strategic mendacity,
deducted images distancing us
confining what I know and feel
for you and us up to now,

Not disregarding
or over-valuing
past and potential future
wealth for what feels safe for us today
to believe and hope,
our reviving health
tomorrow.

When winters hand out plastic bottled lemon juice
and grieving onions
too long endured,
I would like to trade some for limes
and grateful southern summer garlic
if you have those
to share.

Together
we might make lemon-lime local aid
and add community’s basic bullion
for regenerate harvest
building stone multiculturing soup,
green vegetarian
and redmeat simmering stews.

When life hands us lemons
and FixIt unpeeling onions
Earth invites rebirthing us
to re-imagine all four seasons
and three tenses together
our re-creolizing cacophany
with restoring beverage
of healthy re-changing choice
for loving peace as resilient ecojustice.

Love of who and what,
when and where,
and why until just us again,
revisiting community polycultural outdoor worship
during summer health-climax

And on through fall harvest,
and yet another inevitable winterish lemon
of creolizing discontent,
stuck inside
liturgical long-range extended family garden planning
plotting worshiping community love redevelopment,
global song and dance sacred restoration,
healthy-wealth of peace

As integrity of love
for WinWin organic choices
changing four-seasons from above
as below,
without
as within.

Trauma,
and unresolved traumatic memory,
is to health,
as violence,
and unresolved threat of violence,
is to peace.

Western and Eastern cultures of competing traumas
long for cultures of health,
climates of cooperative gratitude
for Earth’s sacred and fertile dualistic Heavenly Grace
and nondualistic EarthNature-ParadiseSpirit Karma.

Hope stresses active therapy.
Despair distresses trauma.
What is absence of hope or despair for you?

Probably all the above.
Which makes it all the more climate critical
to be mindful of who we hang out with
and invest in and vote for,
what voices and messages and stories
we read and watch and listen with,
especially before going to sleep,
and, if at all possible,
again after we wake up
from a full moon’s night
of egotherapeutic full-conscious investment
in RightBrain dominant
restorative rest
in copresent Left with Right
Win-Win comic and cosmic sweetspot dreams
and Lose-Lose ego-punishing tragic nightmares.

Those who still laugh in our sleep together
laugh most restoratively Win-Win.
This seems a healthy therapeutic goal
for growing global peace.

Waking up to despair,
sadness,
bone-tired at war with a beeping alarm clock,
an alarming list of immediately urgent responsibilities
without an opportunity in sight,
or at least not this first despairing fright,
at end of night.

If this sounds familiar
as at least your normal Monday through Friday,
you probably need a better way toward bed
the night before.

Most likely, earlier.

But also,
even for many with mindfulness practices,
disciplines
with their own short and long-term rewards
for both natural and spiritual health,
remembering gratitude
is our interior face
of grace’s exterior face,
or karma’s exterior influences,
or love’s potential winners winning
full circle in theory,
yet too anemic during this dreaded alarm clock time.

If yours is solely a morning contemplative practice,
after you wave the kids off to school,
after the gym or the run,
after the personal hygiene,
it is already too late
to optimize your opportunity
to wake up with least claustrophobic despair
and most expansive hope
building toward faith
that this day just might be even better
than yesterday,
as utterly remarkable as yesterday appeared
as you were mindfully drifting off to sleep
perhaps even before greeting GrandMother Moon’s
new through full repeat performances.

She’ll be here all week,
visible and sometimes invisible,
guarding your restorative rights and responsibilities
toward regenerating tomorrow’s realistic gratitude
for renewed opportunities
to brush your teeth,
and greet each child and significant other,
to notice if these wake with a smile
toward this day,
or with a scowl
for lack of sleep
or a good dream interrupted,
and recognizing how this is two ways
of saying one important not yet thing
which can build toward despair,
and further lack of more therapeutic dreams.

It is an important personal and also political choice
to prepare for sleep
repairing for tomorrow’s grace
or in dread against our memories of grace’s lack,
apparent absence,
persistently stuck issues
too overwhelming to think or feel our way out of,
through,
beyond.

These are important items for evening contemplation too.
But, when I am making my lists,
I start with minuses,
drift off counting my appositional pluses.
They are both there
within us
if we can choose restorative faith
after our lights turn out.

In this sense
we can choose our karma,
our awareness of positive and negative grace.
Love’s tones of restorative therapy
and retributive punishment,
if not yet quite overwhelming gratitude,
also not awakening to further despair
from chronic days of self with other abuse and neglect.

I continue having a dream
that the night everyone in military-industrialized cultures
drifts off feeling graced with opportunities
to become and do every cooperative thing we can
to guarantee Earth’s future of healthy exterior climates,
that is the night before our first morning
arising together
without overwhelming internal competing despairs.

Faith that this restorative therapeutic day
could unfold no less grand
than this dream we shared
our polypathic
demilitarizing
dis-industrializing
less exhausting night before.

Nothing to do about rain falling
as sure as gravity
of dripping issues
landing in my lap,
splattering naked children’s sleepy heads
and innocent soft shoulders.

Into each life…
Yes,
yet eventide rains inside voices
wet down dwindling life
of tiring consciousness.

If I could not read or write or speak
who would I sing with in new found leisure?
Scattered lyrical thoughts
of painful rain
for evening’s loss of light,
and dawn’s dew drop evaporations
raising praise for might
of rain rising up yet again
to grace some other’s night.

We each sing with rain dying alone,
a humanic nature feeling trapped
alien emigrant returning home
to Earth where all creations fail and fall
to rise again singing through new voices
and hues,
spectral rhythmic
dances of songs and cries
each our lived together owned,
rising up new throated sounds
disintegrated symphonies
of song sung out
toward tomorrow’s rain clouds
capturing moist radiant waves,
wet sounds of song
well-lived yet bound.